


Wanderlust

by LouLa



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Hitchhiking, M/M, References to Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three weeks of traveling, Riley is more alone and lost than he's ever been. Afraid that the abandoned road he travels leads to nowhere, he meets a man on a horse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> Picspiration: http://i827.photobucket.com/albums/zz200/lou-la-ff/hitchhike.jpg
> 
> A huge thank you to my betas for their hard work and support.

Just three weeks in, I was already a weary traveler. My feet were sore, blistered, and raw, and my back ached in ways that an eighteen year old should not have known.

Night after night of sleeping on the cold, hard ground took its toll, even after just a few short weeks. The walking for miles in cheap shoes left only pain.

I had absolutely nothing to show for my adventure but bruises, scrapes, and a disgusting layer of mingled sweat and dirt.

I hadn't seen a shower in days―the shelters were few and far between out here―and I longed for hot water washing me clean of the grime. I rarely took one of the beds at the shelters, instead sleeping on the unforgiving floor so someone even less fortunate than I could have the comfort of a mattress. I was just happy for the warmth, something I'd taken for granted not so long before.

The worst part was that I was starting to admit to myself that they were right; I was still just a kid. I'd wanted so badly to prove them wrong, but in just three short weeks, I'd managed to make a bigger mess of things and traveled countless miles from the only place I'd ever called home.

I was beginning to fear that I was exactly what they said I was, too young and too stupid to understand. At the time I'd thought their words had been laced with nothing but hatred. Each day, each hour that passed made me wonder more and more if they'd only been telling the truth.

Out here on my own, so far from home, I was starting to forget myself. It was so easy to forget who I was when my days were spent hoping against hope that I would have at least one meal, that just one driver would stop, that if I just kept walking I'd find the meaning for all of it.

I didn't know exactly what day it was, but I knew I should have been starting college soon. It had been my brilliant plan to come out to my parents before going away to school. I did it a month before school was supposed to start. I thought they would come to accept me and that a couple of days would be enough for them to cool down. I didn't have any idea how two simple words about who I was would affect my life, making it spiral so out of control.

Telling my parents that I was gay had been so enlightening, so freeing, even the looks on their faces couldn't spoil it. I thought they just needed time. Once they learned to accept me, life would go on like it was supposed to, only I would be left feeling happier, lighter. I thought they would help me move into my dorm room; I thought they'd love me unconditionally.

I hadn't anticipated them not wanting a queer for a son. I didn't think they would tell me I needed to change my mind. I had no idea that they'd believe it was possible to have a choice.

I told them it'd never been a choice for me, I couldn't change my mind. Learning to like girls wasn't something I could do. That was exactly what made me 'too young' and 'too stupid to understand.'

Back then I thought it was hypocritical of them, but I was starting to believe that maybe they were right. Back then I knew who I was, what I wanted, where my life was going. Now I had no idea where I even was.

Thanks to the last driver caring enough to take pity on me, I was lost on a dirt road that led to nowhere. He took me a long ways away from where I had been, further yet away from the place I used to call home.

"Take your first right, then two lefts," he had said.

My first right then two lefts brought me to exactly nowhere, exactly where I had thought I wanted to be. I hadn't realized that where I'd wanted to be correlated with being lost, alone, and scared.

The streets didn't even have signs here and no matter where I looked, there was only land and miles of abandoned road. I hadn't seen another car in hours. Last I knew, I was somewhere in Texas.

My hopes for finding a shelter were long gone, thoughts of finding dinner just as hopeless. The blanket in my backpack and the cruel earth would be my bed for the night; I was left without any other choice.

The sun was already setting, and I was more tired than I could ever remember being.

I pushed on, forcing my feet to keep carrying me forward, not wanting to stop until the light had faded away.

The steady clip-clop of hooves on gravel from behind me was an unexpected last shred of hope before the darkness had a chance to settle around me entirely.

There was barely a sliver of light left, and I couldn't make out much more than the shadow of a man and his horse in the distance. It was a bit unnerving. I was used to cars that sped past, kicking dust in my face as they went on by, but he was steadily gaining and I wondered what he would do.

It's not like I expected him to give me a ride―he was on a horse, there wasn't any room in back for a dirty straggler like there'd be in a truck. I wondered if he'd be the type to stop though. Would he ride on and never even give me a second glance? Would he try to talk to me, ask me where I'd come from, where I'd been, what I was doing? Would he look at me in disgust like so many did?

I glanced left then right before looking straight ahead again as I kept on walking. Where I was going and what I'd do for the night was what I should have been wondering. I hadn't eaten yet and there wasn't anything left in my pack.

As the man on the horse rode up right next to me, I glanced up at him, then forced my eyes forward to avoid doing a double take. He was...

I looked again.

And instantly regretted it because he was even more good-looking the second time around.

Sun-tanned skin and pale blue eyes, wavy blond hair beneath the brim of a beige cowboy hat, strong jaw and full red lips. I stared until I tripped and he cocked an eyebrow at me.

Ducking my head and stuffing my hands into my pockets, I made my eyes stay firmly on the ground as I kept walking.

"Ya lost?" he drawled.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath, chewing on my lip.

His voice was rich and deep; southern. It wasn't at all what I was used to even though I'd been hearing it for nearly a week now. His was different, somehow. Better. Or perhaps I had lost my fucking mind.

I didn't answer him except maybe with a shrug of my shoulders that I doubted he saw. I didn't want to tell him that I was exactly where I'd wanted to be, only about twenty times more lost than I ever imagined anyone could be. I never thought I'd get this far away...

There was silence for a few minutes, and I expected him to move on, ride home, go wherever he was going. Instead he just kept pace with me, the only sound being the creak of leather shifting and his horse's hooves rhythmically meeting the ground underfoot.

"I think you're lost," he mused aloud.

I bit back a hasty 'no shit' and decided to shrug again.

"Ain't no place for miles," he told me, and to that, I nearly snapped a 'no fucking shit.' Did he think I didn't notice? "'Cept mine," he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

I glanced up at him wearily. Thankfully his penetrating eyes weren't there to meet mine as he stared ahead, looking deep in thought. While he was distracted, I took my time studying his profile. He had strong features, but he didn't really look like a rough-and-tumble cowboy. His nose was slightly crooked, like it'd been broken at some point, and his jaw line was heavy, but he somehow managed to still be... pretty, with those lips and his eyes.

I looked away as he caught me staring again.

"Do you need some place to stay?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine," I replied automatically.

It was one thing to hitch a ride to a shelter, but literally staying in someone's home was crossing a line. He had no way of knowing if I was some deranged murderer and I wasn't going to make him uncomfortable that way in his own home. Hell, I had no idea if he was crazy―he very well could have been.

Meeting soft, concerned blue eyes, I changed my mind, deciding that no, he couldn't be crazy. There wasn't a hint of malice in the man on the horse.

"There's no place for miles, this road leads straight to a dead end. You'd need to walk about five miles back that way then it's another good fifteen before you reach anywhere warm. It's near dark, I ain't leavin' you out here," he said matter-of-factly.

Shoving my hands deeper into my pockets, I tried to think of some way to politely say no thanks, that I appreciated it but I was really okay. I couldn't think of a thing to say though because the truth was that I really wasn't okay. I was tired and hungry and cold and fucking dirty. I wanted a home again, even if it was just for a night. I wanted to go home with this stranger more than anything I could ever remember wanting before.

He sighed and even if it was a soft sound, it startled me from my thoughts.

"You're dead on your feet, kid," he whispered.

I really was, there was nothing else to it. I couldn't hide it, no matter how much I tried.

"Look," he said firmly, "I live just up there where the road ends. I need to be gettin' home to finish up with chores before the sun is completely gone. If I leave you out here, I ain't gonna be able to think of nothin' else, and then I'll have to drive back out here to find you again. So just make it easier on the both of us and let me help now. You can eat and shower and sleep in a warm bed, then I can give you a ride wherever you need to be goin'. Deal?" he asked, pulling his horse up to a stop.

For some reason, my feet stopped when his horse's did, though I never really gave them permission to.

I stared at him unabashedly for a few long moments, and he looked right back at me without a hint of doubt in his eyes.

When I took a deep breath, he nodded his head once in acknowledgment of my acquiescence. He kicked his closest foot loose of the stirrup and I hesitated.

"You want me to..." I trailed off.

"Yup," he said simply.

My mind was racing as fast as my heart was when he stuck his hand out at me. I bit down hard on my lip as I raised my foot into the stirrup and took hold of his warm, strong hand.

"Name's Jasper," he offered, giving a hard pull while I pushed up with my foot.

"Riley," I squeaked back, launching upwards and knowing in that moment that I just agreed to something more reckless and scary than a lonely night out in the cold.

I'd never in my life been on a horse before―I hadn't ever even seen one up-close in real life―so figuring out how to maneuver on behind Jasper was more than a little uncomfortable―likely for both of us―but he waited patiently.

"Whatever you do, don't grip her with your legs," Jasper warned.

While I was still trying to figure out what to 'grip her with' if I couldn't use my legs, he let her start to move. I wasn't as ready as I thought I was.

The motion was unbalancing, and my immediate reaction would have been to grip with my legs, but paying heed to Jasper's warning, I resisted the urge. Instead, I reached forward and grabbed onto whatever I could―which ended up being Jasper.

He was steady as a rock under my hands―my two fists clenched tightly onto his shirt. I ignored what I thought was the sound of him chuckling quietly.

He didn't let her go any faster than she already was, and the very last that was left of the sun was nearly gone by the time we rode up into his yard.

He steered the horse up toward the house, stopping near the porch steps. His hands on mine surprised me into releasing the death grip I had on his shirt.

"Just swing on down, watch her flank."

I had no idea what her flank was or how to watch it, but I managed to get my two feet back on the ground without dying so I must have done okay.

Stumbling slightly, I glanced up at him and caught him unsuccessfully trying to fight off an amused grin.

"Go on in and get yourself some food. I'll be up in awhile, alright? Make yourself at home."

He said nothing more as he rode off, leaving me floundering and trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.

He wanted me to just... Having absolutely no idea who I was or if I had ulterior motives, he wanted me to just walk into his home and find myself something to eat.

I couldn't understand it. In Chicago, you didn't let anyone you hadn't known since birth in your house unattended. Growing up, my parents never even allowed me to answer the door when someone came over.

Even not being able to grasp what he was thinking―how could he trust me?―the draw of the house was too much.

I let myself in.

Having noticed that the house was small from the outside, it didn't surprise me at all to be stepping into a cramped kitchen.

I stood awkwardly just inside the door, trying to figure out what to do with myself. But I was too fucking hungry to just stand there for long.

It was almost like something in my mind clicked and an instinctive part of my brain took over. The only thing that mattered was how fucking hungry I was and the fact that I had free rein to his kitchen.

I rummaged through cupboards and shelves, the fridge and the freezer in a hasty search for anything edible.

The first half-pound of bacon went down mostly raw and still sizzling, burning like a son of a bitch, but tasting so good that I didn't care. The second half I fried up before getting out some eggs.

At some point, my stomach stopped controlling my brain and I took into consideration that Jasper would probably want to eat too.

I cooked for myself first, then made his while I shoveled in forkful after forkful of steaming eggs.

I was just finishing up my portion and considering moving onto his when he came in. It was probably for the best; my stomach was honestly already uncomfortably full.

"I made you some?" I blurted, the words coming out like a question as I dumped the eggs onto a plate with the leftover bacon.

"You didn't have to do that," he drawled, kicking his boots off.

To me he looked grateful, and I sighed to myself for possibly having done the right thing. It wasn't as if this situation could get any more awkward anyway.

"Thank you, Riley," he said as he sat down at the table.

"It's... I mean, it's your food anyway... I..." I didn't know what to say. If anyone should have been grateful, it was me.

"Plan on leaving so soon?" he asked, nodding in my direction.

Confused, I looked down at myself then blushed when I realized what he was talking about. I hadn't taken off my shoes, or my coat, or even my backpack.

"Take a load off. Go on in and sit down, turn on the TV if you like."

I nodded, sliding off my backpack and my light coat and leaving them, along with my shoes, where he'd toed off his boots. Worrying my lip, I cautiously walked into the living room. I spotted the TV remote placed upon the armrest of the couch and avoided sitting there, assuming that's where he usually sat.

The moment my ass touched the seat in the overstuffed chair in the corner, my bones turned to rubber.

It felt like it'd been so long since I'd been in a place with comfortable furniture and warmth, someplace that smelled nice, that felt like a home.

The sound of Jasper quietly eating in the other room and the much needed relaxation was enough to put me straight to sleep.

― ― ―

I was warm and comfortable when I woke up, two things I was not used to feeling anymore. Having slept for the longest I had in a while, I felt completely disoriented and confused by my surroundings.

I wasn't used to waking up warm anymore. I hadn't slept on something so soft in weeks. I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't woken up sick to my stomach with hunger and dread.

Curled up in that comfy, soft chair, a blanket thrown over the top of me, I thought for just a moment that it had been a dream. I thought I'd never left home. But it wasn't a dream. I wasn't in my parents' living room, and I was still wearing my dirty clothes.

It definitely wasn't a dream, I still smelled like a hobo.

My head cleared, and I knew exactly where I was. Well, not exactly, but I remembered Jasper and the horse and eating like a starved animal.

Thankfully he hadn't seen me eating as if I'd never see food again. But I had spent the night on his furniture while dirty and smelling like roadkill. There really wasn't a bright side.

I could see it was light outside, and all was quiet. Assuming I was very much alone, I stood and stretched, groaning loudly as my joints popped and muscles gave in a way that was purely pleasurable.

It felt so awkward being in someone else's house―someone I didn't know, who I'd barely said a handful of words to. I moved practically on my tip-toes as I walked over to the kitchen.

On the table was a stack of clothing with a note perched on top that instructed me to treat Jasper's home as if it were my own. He was even so kind to point out where I could find a new toothbrush, shaving products, his computer, and the laundry detergent if I wanted to wash my clothing.

The prospect of a shower and shave sounded perfect, but after I spotted the box of cereal left out on the counter, I decided to eat first. Cereal truly had never tasted so good in my life.

Taking Jasper's clothing with me, I crept through the house in search of the bathroom. His bedroom, which I found first―and I was right, the house was empty, and small―sat on the opposite end of the narrow hallway from the bathroom.

Stepping into the bathroom, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My eyes widened as I took in my own appearance and insecurity came rushing in, making me sick to my stomach.

I looked horrible, and I was beyond horrified that Jasper―who was truly beautiful―had seen me like this. I hadn't looked in a mirror in quite a while and the pallor of my skin next to the dark circles under my eyes was terrifying. My hair was practically matted and I was filthy. Disgusting.

I stripped my clothes off and didn't look in the mirror again before turning on the water as hot as I thought I could stand it and getting into the shower.

It didn't matter how hot the water was, I was still shaking as I watched it swirl in a disgusting color down the drain. The combined efforts of my scrubbing and the hot water left my skin an angry red, but as the water started to cool, the color of my skin returned to normal.

I stood under the water for as long as I could―it was spraying down so cold I started to shiver again before I finally turned it off. Even after the water was off, I stayed in the shower, running my hands through my hair and drip drying.

Finally forcing myself to get out, I dried off quickly and remained naked in the cozy bathroom, shaving off what little scruffy facial hair I had accumulated.

I tried not to scrutinize myself in the mirror, but even quick glances told me the shower hadn't helped a whole lot. I'd lost weight off my already thin frame and my hair was unkempt. I looked sickly pale, weak and unhealthy. It was amazing what three short―and how they'd felt so long―weeks could do to a person.

As I pulled on the clothing that wasn't mine, I forced myself not to press them close to my face and inhale because it only reminded me of the fact that I hadn't smelled at all nice prior to showering. I wanted to sniff the shirt that I had on; I knew it smelled good, like Jasper, but I couldn't.

Gathering up all of my belongings and dirty towels, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. I wasn't sure when or if Jasper would be around, and I wanted to be prepared if I ran into him.

I found the washer and dryer and started up my load of laundry. Then I wandered aimlessly.

I had no idea what to do with myself.

I didn't have any desire to watch television. Going outside was the very last thing I wanted to do. Staring at the wall kept me content for only so long.

Glancing around, I started to notice small things―a picture hanging crooked, the dirty doormat, clean dishes needing to be put away, and unclean ones needing washing. It was almost unconsciously that I started to do the mundane tasks.

Time went by faster when I had something to do. Soon the washing machine had run its cycle and my things were in the dryer.

That was about the time that I realized that I was cleaning Jasper's house.

It wasn't that it was filthy or unkempt; it was just lived in. I suppose it was probably your average single cowboy's home―well, I presumed he was single anyway. There wasn't a hint of a woman's touch in the entire little house. The house being in need of a dusting was just another check in the 'single' column.

But I wasn't sure how he'd feel about me cleaning his house. One might find it a bit offending if some straggler you brought home decided your home was in need of a cleaning. On the other hand, he might be grateful.

Once again, I didn't know what to do with myself.

So I started to wander the house again, finally ending up in Jasper's bedroom. I walked over to his desktop computer and fired it up.

The thing was ancient and took forever to load completely, then longer yet to connect to his dialup internet. His homepage loaded just as exasperatingly slowly, and once it was finally up, I was more than a little shocked to discover it was a blog directed toward gay men.

There had to be some significance in that―a straight man wouldn't have his homepage set to a gay blog, would he? Being nosy, I clicked on his 'favorites' tab.

Just a quick glance at that was enough to firm up my suspicion. Absolutely no straight man would have a list full of gay blogs, message boards, and porn websites saved in his favorites.

Jasper was gay.

Well, that was certainly revealing... and personal. It definitely made me wonder if he had wanted me to know. He did, after all, grant me access to his computer. He could have changed his homepage and saved his favorite website elsewhere to keep his secret. Maybe he was interested.

Or maybe he just didn't care that I knew.

And why should he?

Puffing out a breath, I typed in the familiar web address to my email carrier. I'd like to blame his slow internet for being the reason it took twenty minutes for me to actually click on the email icon and sign in, but I was really just delaying.

I didn't know why I was checking my email. I really didn't have a clue.

It just felt like I had to, for curiosity's sake. I didn't actually expect to have any messages besides maybe forwards and junk.

My inbox was full of emails. Every subject line read 'please come home' or something very similar. Emails from friends I'd been missing, people with names I didn't even recognize, and family too.

Then I saw my mom's name in bold, her subject line no different from the rest. The first few words of her message were visible, and my eyes were taking in the words before I could stop them.

 _Riley, Please, please, I'm begging you. Come home. We miss you_...

My vision swam, and with a shaky hand, I closed the window as quickly as I could. Stumbling away from the desk, I sank down on Jasper's bed. Pressing my palms to my face, I sucked much needed air into my aching chest and fought to catch my suddenly short breath.

I couldn't think about it. I just couldn't. Logging into my email had been a stupid mistake. I didn't want to think about what I had seen.

I didn't want to think about going home. I hated that I wanted to go back there almost more than anything. I wished I could have a do over. I wanted things to be different. I couldn't understand my mother saying that she missed me when just weeks ago she despised me for what I told her.

I wasn't even close to thinking clearly when I leaned back in the bed. I was confused and upset.

Mistake number one had been going into Jasper's room at all.

Mistake number two was being stupid enough to think any good would come from checking my email.

Mistake number three was sitting down on Jasper's bed.

Mistake number four was rolling onto my stomach and breathing in the deliciously calming scent of his pillow.

The biggest mistake was falling asleep right there face down on Jasper's bed.

― ― ―

It was the creak of a floorboard that woke me, but a deep sigh that really pulled me from my unconsciousness. The bedding at my feet rustled, then I was covered, even more surrounded by the perfect scent I'd been breathing in for the past who-knows-how-long.

It was when the floorboard creaked again that I really comprehended what was happening.

I was out of Jasper's bed and stammering my apologies before he could really even take a full step in the opposite direction.

The words coming out of my mouth probably didn't make sense, and I could hear him hushing me, but it didn't matter. It was all coming out, and it was coming out right now, apparently.

What started out as 'I'm sorry' and 'I shouldn't have' quickly twisted into 'I just want to go home' and 'please don't make me leave.'

Before I knew it, I was on Jasper's bed, only this time I was breathing him in straight from the source. Sobbing into his shirt and pulling in great lungfuls of his smell, I fought for some semblance of composure.

I hadn't broken down in all this time, why did I have to do it now? Why here, in front of him, of all places?

I hated looking weak as I did in front of anyone, and I was especially not enjoying being weak in front of Jasper.

I pulled back from him, sitting up straight and brushing the tears off my cheeks, hoping they would just stop already.

His fingers touching my forehead surprised me as he pushed my bangs away from my eyes.

"You alright?" he asked softly, ducking his head slightly to meet my downcast eyes.

I nodded slowly, looking away from him, embarrassed. "Yes. I'm so―"

I didn't get to finish that statement as he pulled me so tightly to his chest that he crushed the air right out of my body.

"Stop apologizin'. You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for, you hear?" he demanded earnestly.

I nodded against his chest, and he pushed me arm's length away, rubbing lightly at my shoulders.

"Are you hungry?"

It was an innocent enough question, I knew that, but it cut bone deep. Of course I was fucking hungry; I was always hungry. But I should have been happy with the one meal―it was more than I'd been used to, and asking for anything else was just being greedy.

"Good, me too. How 'bout you and me run into town? I need some things from the hardware store before it closes, and we can get some dinner from the diner. Sound alright with you, Riley?"

"What?" I sputtered, staring at him.

"I said―"

"No, I heard you," I cut him off. "I heard what you said, but just... what?"

I shook my head incredulously, wondering if I had in fact heard him.

"People will ask questions," I stated dubiously.

He just shrugged his shoulders. "If they do, I reckon your story is frankly none of their business unless you feel like sharin'."

I sighed, looking away from him again to think. I hadn't shared 'my story' with anyone, really. I imagine he could put a few things together after my little display of emotion.

Shaking my head again―this time to clear away the errant thoughts and embarrassment―I asked him how he was going to explain me to the people he knew.

He just said it wasn't none of their business again. "You don't have to come along if you don't want. I'll bring you back anything you'd like."

Picking at my cuticles, I admitted to him that I was just scared. I didn't tell him why or how much, just that I was scared and he nodded as if he understood perfectly.

Then he asked me if it would be the scariest thing I'd ever done to go to the diner with him.

When he put it that way it sounded stupid. I'd slept outside and in shelters, surrounded by smelly strangers, for the past three weeks. Eating a meal I didn't have to beg for shouldn't have frightened me.

But it was a different type of fear altogether.

It was the fear of disappointing Jasper in some way, the fear of interacting with people as I would have before I'd gotten lost.

It wasn't fear for my life, but it was still fear.

Jasper inhaled deeply and stood up. "So what's it gonna be?"

Swallowing down the fear, I stood too.

― ― ―

"Hi, sugar."

"Maria."

"Who's your friend?"

It was fucking awkward. I knew it would be. People glanced at us curiously as we walked in, and the glances turned to downright rude stares as we took seats in the corner.

Now our waitress was peering at me, asking who I was. It didn't help that Jasper started staring at me too.

"Got a name, darlin'?"

"Riley," I offered meekly.

"He don't say much," Jasper cut in before the waitress could start with more questions. "I met him when I went on up north. He's in town for the weekend."

Maria nodded at that and asked nothing else while I openly gaped at Jasper. He just... pulled that story straight out of his ass.

His foot tapping at the top of mine made me close my mouth.

"So what'll it be, boys?" she asked cheerfully.

When my eyes slid down to the menu she set in front of me, I realized exactly how surreal this situation was.

He just lied for me. He really didn't strike me as the lying type. But he did, and he did it easily. That left us sitting here, waiting to order... like friends? Like lovers?

I sure as hell didn't have any money to pay for my own meal. So not only was he letting me―me, a complete fucking stranger―live out of his house and use his things, but he was buying me meals too.

It didn't sit well. Not at all.

"Can we have a moment?"

"Sure thing, sugar. Just holler when y'all are ready."

"Hey," Jasper said softly. Then his warm hand was over my balled up fist. "It's alright," he drawled quietly, squeezing my hand. "I promise you, Riley, you ain't got a thing to worry about."

Feeling shame―seeing Jasper's pity practically rolling off of him in waves―was difficult to take. There wasn't any other way to put it. What he was doing for me was out of pity.

I absolutely despised how weak that made me feel.

I hated how Jasper could just sit there and pretend, his hand over mine and his eyes all wide and concerned. I wanted to pretend. I wished that I could turn my hand over and feel his palm against mine, and pretend I was his boyfriend and we were out on a date.

That was so, so much better than the reality.

And why couldn't I pretend? He could do it so easily. Hell, he was touching me now―he'd done it earlier too, so nonchalantly, yet meaningfully at the same time.

I loosened up my fist, and his hand stayed on mine, thumb brushing back and forth across my knuckles. My eyes were locked on his hand as I flipped mine over. His thumb stopped moving, but there wasn't any hesitation in his movement as he clasped my hand in his.

While my breath caught with surprise, he sighed long and loud like he'd been holding onto the biggest fucking lungful of air for forever. I chanced a glance up at his face and the smallest of smiles was playing at his lips.

I knew the moment my embarrassment got the better of me because he chuckled and I could feel the heat of my blush. Still, I couldn't help smiling in return.

Pretending really wasn't so bad.

― ― ―

The ride back to Jasper's house was quiet. We weren't touching, and neither of us had said a word, but somehow it didn't feel awkward. I think we were both so lost in our thoughts that we couldn't be bothered with conversation.

What was there to say anyway?

There wasn't much that had to be said. There were things that could be said, of course, but there was really only one last thing that needed to be cleared up.

And that was where I'd be sleeping tonight.

When he parked the truck up near the house, I unbuckled quickly and turned to him. My heart was racing and everything seemed to be moving slowly―it felt like it took forever for him to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Jasper," I whispered, sliding across the bench seat.

He turned to face me―all tanned perfection and lips that could only get redder with kissing, wavy blond hair my hands itched to be buried into and blue eyes wide with wonder.

I leaned in and he met me halfway, lips warm and soft against mine. His palms felt rough against the back of my neck as he pulled me closer, but it made it all the better as I finally touched his soft hair.

The kiss was all the answer I really needed. I could feel the way he wanted me too when his tongue pressed at my lips; I knew for sure when his breaths were coming just as labored and quick as mine.

I pulled back and scooted across the seat. I needed some fresh air after that, because that... that was a first kiss. It was nothing like any other kiss I'd ever had. It was fucking perfect, and Jasper, and I needed more.

He took a bit longer than I did to get out of the truck, but when he met me around the front of it, he kissed me again. And again. And again. He kept on kissing me until I was up against the front door, then he kissed me some more when I was inside.

We were panting and pushing and pulling, stumbling our way through his house, kissing like we needed it more than air. When the back of my knees hit his bed, I fell back onto it, never releasing my hold on his hair. I pulled him down with me, and he crawled onto the bed, settling himself over me. Only then did I remove my fingers from his hair, sliding them down his back and grabbing the bottom of his shirt.

He sat up on his knees and I followed his lips for as long as I could before falling back onto the pillows and yanking his shirt over his head. After throwing it to the floor, my hands went to his hard, bare chest. His skin was soft and warm beneath my palms, I never wanted to stop touching him. I never wanted to stop looking either; I could stare at his beautiful sun-kissed skin all day.

When I finished with his chest and moved down his stomach, I couldn't resist trying to slide my hand into his jeans. As my fingertips brushed over hot skin, his hips jerked and he grabbed my hand, pulling it out of his pants.

I was laughing when he dropped back down to kiss me again, and he growled into my mouth. I raked my nails across his back and urged him closer to me, planting my feet on the bed at either side of him and rocking up against him after he lowered himself down onto me.

We kissed and dry humped until he unexpectedly rolled us over, putting me on top. I made a sound of irritated disapproval against his mouth and we pulled apart, both of us short of breath.

"I like being on bottom," I explained.

"That's good, I like bein' on top," he said with a wink. "But it's hard to take this off with you beneath me." He tugged on my shirt then pulled it up over my head.

I hunched self-consciously, embarrassed by the huge difference between our bodies. Where he was strong and muscled, tanned and manly, I was weak and thin, ungodly pale. I looked like a boy compared to him, and he couldn't have possibly been that much older than me. Just a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have been ashamed to be naked in front of him, but after going without regular meals, sometimes for days at a time, I looked unhealthily thin.

I wanted to forget about the fact that I was homeless, but I couldn't, not for long anyway―not long enough.

I sat back heavily, straddling his hips, and he wordlessly dragged his palms across my chest and stomach, gripping my hips in his big hands. When he pushed his fingers slowly under the waistband of my jeans, I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"If you think I'm going to stop you, I'm not," I told him.

He just smiled and slipped his hand in further. He had a much easier time considering the pants I was wearing were loose. He turned his hand and wrapped his fingers around my cock, stroking long and slow.

I groaned and pushed my ass down against the bulge I could feel in his jeans, grinding on him while he moved his hand over me.

I wasn't expecting it again when he rolled us over, and his movements were fast and effortless as he pulled my pants and underwear off, leaving me completely naked. He fell atop me, kissing me urgently and guiding his hand between us to continue stroking me.

I whimpered and spread my legs wider when he touched the puckered skin of my entrance. He sat back on his knees between my legs and stared down at me, his fingers making maddeningly soft patterns over my needy flesh.

Jasper leaned forward then, reaching over me to the small table by his bed. He pushed a picture frame aside and pulled out the bottle of lube hidden behind it.

I couldn't help snorting. His cheeks went a little pink as he asked me if this was alright―to which I nodded hastily. He popped the top and coated his fingers, setting the bottle back on the table before returning back to a kneeling position.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied firmly.

He leaned in to kiss me one more time before settling back and touching his slicked fingers to my hole. I watched him as he kept his eyes on what he was doing, circling and teasing.

"Jasper, come on," I groaned.

He smiled and ever so slowly pushed the tip of his finger in. I sighed and squirmed, awaiting more. He barely made it to the first knuckle before withdrawing, I groaned again.

He chuckled and kissed the inside of my knee. "So impatient," I heard him whisper.

"Fucking tease," I shot back, though I don't think he fully intended for me to even hear him.

I stopped complaining and let him go on with his slow, torturous teasing. The push and pull of the deliberate in and out would have probably felt nice had I let it, but I just wanted more, more, more, faster.

He took ten fucking minutes to even try a second finger, and still, I wasn't bored. Fuck no. I was so goddamn turned on it felt like my balls had to literally be turning blue before his eyes.

It was maddening how he'd push in with two fingers just slightly, then go back to one and slowly press in and drag out. Over and fucking over. It was like he was trying to touch every inch of me, memorize me, with just one finger.

When he finally, fucking finally, worked his second finger in, I could barely take it anymore. I hated being teased, and if he was going to start all over again for a third finger, I was going to just jerk the fuck off. I couldn't take it.

He switched fingers before slowly adding a third. The stretch felt incredible, even as he kept the ridiculously unhurried movements. I arched and pushed and squirmed and thrust, all to no result. He moved at his own damn pace when all I wanted was for him to fuck me.

Reaching my limit, I grabbed my dick and thrust up, moaning loudly when his fingers twisted inside of me. "God, yes, need to come," I pleaded.

He didn't let up with his relentless teasing and I didn't let up the fast movement on my cock. When his fingers stopped moving and he kept them deep inside of me, curling just so, I used my feet as leverage to fuck myself on them. His fingers hit right where I needed them to as I rocked back and forth, stroking my cock just the way I liked it.

I moaned his name as I came, my hips arching up off the bed while my legs quivered. I could feel his lips on my leg as I came all over my chest and stomach.

I collapsed back down with a shudder as Jasper slid his fingers out of me. Letting my dick fall onto my stomach and my legs go flat on the bed, I tried to catch my breath. Jasper wiped off my chest and hand before sliding up the bed to sit next to me.

My voice was raspy when I said, "Oh my God."

He chuckled and I looked up at him, probably with a goofy smile on my face.

"Why are your pants still on?" I questioned.

I didn't give him a chance to answer and rolled between his legs, immediately flicking his button open. He lifted his hips and I grabbed the waistband of his underwear and jeans before yanking down.

His pants were midway down his thigh when his cock sprang free, and I moaned at the sight of it.

I abandoned the task of taking off his pants to lean in and lick it. He gasped and jerked; I smiled, gripping him at the base before sliding him as deep into my mouth as I could.

He gasped again, then moaned, and he gripped my hair in loose fists, arching his hips up slightly every time I went down. I didn't bother even trying to tease him, like he'd done to me, I didn't have the willpower. Instead I just sucked his cock with everything I had.

"Riley, stop, stop," he urged frantically, gripping my chin to pull me off of him.

He kept his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the wall as he dragged in deep breaths.

"Problem?" I asked.

His lips quirked slightly but he didn't open his eyes to answer me. "You know what the problem was."

I snickered and kissed the side of his mouth. "I wouldn't have minded swallowing," I whispered.

He squirmed and I bit back a vindictive laugh. "I wouldn't have minded that either, but I thought you wanted..." he trailed off.

"I do. I'm not complaining. Are you ready?" I asked eagerly.

"Yeah, let me get a condom."

He twisted slightly, pushing the picture frame aside further to grab a condom out of the hidden box. He shoved his pants off the rest of the way and I climbed back onto him, straddling his thighs.

He tore the wrapper open, and I rolled it on him and went to lay back down beside him, but he caught my hips before I could.

"Just like this," he said.

I steadied myself on his shoulders as I moved forward into position over his cock and he tightened his grip on my hips slightly, stopping me before I could move anymore.

I looked up at him just as he opened his mouth to say something, and I knew exactly what it would be.

"Yes," I laughed, before any words even came out of his mouth.

He looked startled for a second before sighing and smiling at me. He kept his hands on my hips as I shifted down and lined him up. I took a deep breath to relax myself and slowly pressed down.

I clenched and bit my lip as he pushed inside and he groaned quietly. I sank down on him, reveling in the pleasurable ache that radiated through my body as he filled me.

I shivered as I sat down on his lap, realizing a little belatedly just how big he was.

"How's that?" I asked, leaning my forehead against his.

"Tight," he replied.

I kissed him lightly, and he asked me, "Are you alright?"

I nodded and kissed him again, then shifted a bit to test out how it felt. Groaning, I pressed my hands flat against the wall behind him and raised up. I pulled almost all the way off before sinking down and we both moaned as I sat fully on him for a second time.

It didn't take long for me to adjust and I was fucking thrilled I was on top because he probably would have drawn it out forever if he was the one holding the reins. I was free to bounce all I wanted, rock when I needed, and not be driven mad with his torturously slow movements.

He gasped and groaned, watching me ride his cock. His sounds grew more desperate as he took my hard cock in his hand and started to stroke me in time with my thrusts on him.

"Close," he warned.

Hooking my feet under his legs, I rode him harder and faster, tightening around him when his hand squeezed and twisted―nearly exactly how I liked when I needed to come.

He came first, leaning back heavily against the wall and grunting as he pulsed inside of me, never stopping his hand's insistent movement. I sat down on him hard and ground my hips on him, coming just moments after him.

Completely exhausted, I flopped off of him onto my side and stretched out across his bed, moaning contentedly as my sore muscles relaxed.

My eyes were heavy as I rolled over, pressing my face into his pillow. I felt his lips moving on my shoulder before drifting to sleep.

― ― ―

The floorboard creaked just a moment before cool air was replacing warmth. Then there was damp skin, and warm, a whole lot of it, pressed up against my backside.

"You're wet," I groaned, followed by a noticeably less grumpy, "and naked."

His chuckle was breathy against my ear. "Sleep," he whispered.

I don't know who he thought he was kidding, like I could really fall back asleep with his dick pressed against my ass, his wet hair dripping on my neck, his soft lips pressing lightly at my jaw, his hot breath blowing in my ear.

I turned in his arms and wound my fingers deep into his thick hair, pushing myself as close to him as I possibly could, kissing him with everything I had.

We kissed and touched and pressed every inch of naked skin together that we could. Jasper pushing me away was abrupt and unexpected.

He pushed me away and he held me there. I chewed my lip nervously as he shook his head back and forth, eyes closed firmly.

"You gotta tell me, Riley. You gotta tell me what happened," he said, revealing blue eyes more concerned than I'd ever seen them.

I sank back into the pillows, ignoring his calloused but gentle fingers pushing my hair off of my face. I didn't want to say it, any of it. It was so much easier to pretend.

There was near silence for a while as he held me.

He didn't push me to talk, he just softly kissed me and let me work my own way to getting it over with.

He held me tighter when I started to talk.

When I brought up the emails, he all but carried me across his room to the desk. He wrapped us both in the comforter from his bed and nearly crushed me to him as I cried my way through the begging, praying, and apologizing.

He didn't say a word, but I could hear him swallowing thickly and rocking us both when it was just too much.

He held me for hours as I went through every single email in my inbox.

He wordlessly retrieved his phone when I asked for it.

He held onto me as I dialed with shaking fingers, lips pressed to the back of my neck.

He said nothing but he kept his arms tight around me when I called home.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is entirely dedicated to jacksonmccoy, always and forever.


End file.
